


Adventures in LARPING

by Spitshine



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Clothed Sex, Coming Out, Enthusiastic Consent, Genderqueer Derek, Kissing, LARPing, Non-Penetrative Sex, Other, Rutting, Scent Kink, Trans Male Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-10
Updated: 2016-02-10
Packaged: 2018-05-19 14:02:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5969691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spitshine/pseuds/Spitshine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Normally a new smell in the Preserve would stand Derek's hair up, put them on edge, but there was something—different about this scent. Something light, something intriguing, something that pulled them in and made their mouth dry, their heart pound. They wanted to know who was giving it off, and more than that, they wanted to know why.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Adventures in LARPING

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LauraWithoutSound](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LauraWithoutSound/gifts).



> Title: Adventures in LARPing  
> Rating: E  
> Pairing: Stiles/Derek  
> Warnings: none  
> Trans Characters: genderqueer!Derek, trans male!Stiles  
> Ace Characters: none  
> Aro Characters: none specifically stated but I am headcanoning Scott and Kira in the world’s effing cutest queerplatonic relationship for this story
> 
> I had so much fun writing this goofy thing for the exchange; hope you like it!

Derek pressed their face to the tree trunk and inhaled. Most of the pack had been through this particular clearing at some point during today’s LARPing excursion, but there was a different smell in addition to those, something softer overlaying Lydia’s chemical perfume, Scott’s grassy musk, the acrid-sweet tang of Stiles’ T. They sniffed shallowly a few more times, getting a a bead on the new smell, and turned to follow it out of the little glade.

Normally a new smell in the Preserve would stand their hair up, put them on edge, but there was something—different about this scent. Something light, something intriguing, something that pulled them in and made their mouth dry, their heart pound. They wanted to know who was giving it off, and more than that, they wanted to know why.

They followed the narrow game trail on bare feet—they’d been more than a little nervous when they’d announced the paladin they’d be playing would be female, actually; no one had blinked an eye, but now they were a bit chagrined that neither had anyone bothered to point out that a day-long traipse in the woods might not be the best time to wear heels out of the house for the first time—more intent on tracking the smell and staying silent than looking around.

Which was, of course, how they ended up bumping, literally, into Stiles.

Stiles, who was of course playing a rogue and setting up something… complicated looking where the game trail crossed a normal walking path.

“Oh, heyyy, De—excuse me, Lyassa. A fine day for a walk, wouldn’t you say? Just a—”

Derek took a step closer. “Sti—er, Marwyrd, what are you doing?”

“Oh, um, nothing really. Just a little… you know, we should probably go back the way you came real fast.”

Derek opened their mouth to ask why, but Stiles just glared and shooed them back down the path, just in time to duck behind some underbrush and watch Scott and Kira—er, Searos and Janaaga—come down the wider trail and fall like dominoes, Janaaga landing on Searos with a loud “Oof!”

Stiles laughed with his whole body, muffling his noises behind his hands as he shook with glee. Derek moved to grab the branches rustling around him, hoping to quiet the tell-tale noises before Scott could pinpoint where they were.

The move put them right in Stiles’ space, their arm crossing over Stiles’ shoulder, and the smell hit them like a brick.

They sniffed, delicately. In the corner of their eye, they saw Scott and Kira get up, brush themselves off, and walk away, bumping shoulders companionably, but they didn’t have the focus to concentrate on anything but the smell wafting off Stiles’ skin.

Sweet, but not sugary. Like fresh bread, almost, or a wide lawn heating under the summer sun—

“Uh, Derek?” Stiles squirmed beside them. “You’re sniffing me?”

“You smell really good.” Derek inhaled again, deep and long, nose just inches from Stiles’ throat. “Wait. Was that to—do you want me to stop?”

Stiles squirmed again and stood up; another scent entered Derek’s nose. Thick. Salty. “No, I, um, it’s fine. I like it.”

Derek stood too, flicked their eyes away from the sweat gathering on Stiles’ collarbone to his eyes. “You’re getting aroused.”

“Ugh, way to make it sound clinical.”

“I like it. I want to kiss you.”

“Firstly, yes, but secondly, where did this come from?”

“You smell good today. So good. So _glad_. And…” Derek trailed off, not sure how to put it in words. “It’s not, you know, if I thought anyone in the pack would be cool with the, the skirt thing,” Derek’s hand flopped at their clothes, “it would be you obviously, but I just—it’s good to know.”

“That I still think you’re hot as hell no matter what you wear. Yeah, dude—shit. This is, like, not just a costume for today, huh? You want me to stop calling you dude and stuff? You want a different pronoun?”

“Stiles, I’ve wanted you to stop calling me dude the entire time I’ve known you. But pronouns… ‘they’ would be good, I think. I haven’t really had a chance to try different ones out.”

“I can do ‘they,’ no problem. Just let me know if you’d like something else. Do you want me to tell the pack?”

Derek grinned, wide and relieved. “That would be really sweet of you, actually. I think they’ll be okay, but…”

“Yeah, I get that,” Stiles laughed. “Maybe Lydia can take you shopping or something; I think she’s still a little cranky I won’t go with her anymore.”

Derek smiled, a little shy, and looked down at their clothes. Green skirt that fell right to their knees (“so it won’t get caught on anything,” Lydia had decreed), blousy shirt that billowed over their torso, disguising the hard lines of their shoulders, long leather tunic that laced snugly around their waist, giving them a bit of hips. “She helped me with these, actually.”

“Yeah, uh-huh. Clothes, very interesting. So about that kissing. Is that still on the table?”

Derek couldn’t be annoyed about Stiles’ flip brush-off, not when they saw the way the boy’s eyes skated up and down their body. They put their back to the tree and hooked their fingers on his wide belt, pulling him in, “Still on the table, yeah.”

Stiles was a little too excited to be anything but clumsy, but they didn’t mind. Thought it was endearing, even, the way Stiles’ breath caught in his throat as he pushed them into the tree and nipped lightly at their bottom lip, one long kiss melting into the next until he pulled back and whispered hoarsely, “Just kissing or?”

“Or what?”

“Or orgasms? I’m so fucking wet—”

Derek tapped his nose, preening just a little. “I know.”

“And?”

“And I don’t know if I’m comfortable stripping down right here, but yeah, I want to get off. Almost as much as I want to know what you look like, what you smell like—”

“Fuck, Der, you can’t just say that shit!” Stiles complained as he slotted one of their thighs between both of his and started a slow, filthy grind.

“Why not?”

“You can smell why not!”

Derek just smiled and nosed behind Stiles’ ear, where the scent was strongest, and grabbed Stiles’ hips, pulling this way and that until they had the friction they needed—and, by the sounds of it, Stiles did too. “This good? This gonna do it for you?”

“A little too fast, maybe, but yeah, it’ll do it.”

“Well, I mean.” Derek swallowed past their nerves and started again. “You know I don’t think of you as anything but a boy, but—you can come more than once, can’t you?”

He didn’t say anything, just grinned, wide and dirty and impish, eyes sparkling.

“That’s what I thought. And I, I want you to get off. A lot.”

“Wouldn’t worry about that, d—buddy. Now what can I do for you?”

Derek licked up the side of Stiles’ neck, closed their blunt teeth over the lobe of his ear and tugged before letting go to whisper, “Come for me. Let me smell you.” They watched, transfixed and a maybe a little smug, as Stiles’ pupils got visibly bigger at that and his hips bucked forward, hard. “Yes, that’s so fucking hot, c’mon, Stiles, do it, do it, use me, get yourself off…” They were hard, painful almost under their clothes as Stiles’ rhythm stuttered and they got only brief flashes of the friction they needed to come, but it seemed distant next to the immediacy of Stiles’ obvious need and pleasure, his responsive body and cut-off mewls.

Stiles froze, mouth open, eyes wide, breath stopped. He could have been a movie on pause except for the smell of his orgasm filling Derek’s nostrils.

“Yeah, yes, that’s so perfect—” The rest of Derek’s words faded into unintelligibility as they pulled Stiles closer, shoved their nose roughly against the base of his throat.

Then Stiles shifted his weight, got Derek lined up between his strong thighs, started moving again, a merciless undulation that drew their voice out of them in a long whine, a wordless plea. The moment stretched on, messy panting kisses, Derek’s fumbling hands shoving their tunic out of the way, and then—then Stiles’ wetness soaking through their skirt onto their leg, their—

Derek clamped their hands around Stiles’ hips and came hard, eyes squeezed shut, keening and overcome.

They lost track of time, then, but when their eyes finally reopened, Stiles was smiling fondly down at them, looking shy for once. Derek’s hips gave another small twitch at that, at Stiles’ openness. They knew what a gift that vulnerability was.

“If we do this again, you know, if you’re into it, I really want to go down on you, Derek. Want to taste—”

Derek’s head flopped heavily against the tree they were pinned against. “You can’t just say that shit, Stiles.”

“You sure about that?”

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't figure out a way to work it in from Derek's POV but Stiles was setting up a magical tripwire. Fucking gnomes.


End file.
